Sword Play
by Achillia
Summary: Mage Trevelyan decides (or rather is told) to learn the sword. It seems she needs a little help from a certain Commander.


A/N Bioware owns all – Dedicated to my editor and muse Emily who deserves all praise and credit. Let me know what you think!

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 **Sword Play**

The hilt felt heavy and uncomfortable in her hand. The blade was too long and unwieldy, despite the fact that the arms master had assured her that it was one of the smallest and lightest blades they had.

Yet, no matter how hard she swung the sword, she was barely able to scratch the practice dummy. She huffed, a short sharp sound of frustration, readjusted her grip on the hilt and swung with all the might she could muster. Her wild swing sent her off balance. She stumbled and the blade missed the practice dummy by about five miles. She huffed again and impatiently brushed a few errant curls away from her eyes. Maker's breath, _why_ was this so difficult? For all intents and purposes, it was swinging a stick at straw. She'd seen Cassandra do it hundreds of times and it hadn't looked difficult _then._

"What are you doing?"

The voice, though soft, startled her. She spun around, causing the sword to fall from her grip, and she was immediately forced to jump back to avoid cutting off her own toes.

Cullen simply chuckled.

"Sorry," he said, stepping forward into the light. "I did not mean to startle you."

"It doesn't matter," she replied, waving one hand nonchalantly in the air. She glared at the sword as if it _had_ done her a physical injury of some kind, and then added in an undertone, "It wasn't as if I was getting anywhere anyway."

"I see that," he replied, a smile flirting around his almost sinfully sensuous mouth. "What was it you were trying to accomplish in any case?"

"Obviously, I was trying to learn how to kill things with a blade," she retorted, kicking the sword across the ground for good measure. Surprisingly, the action went some way to improving her mood. "It was not going well," she added, with a wry smile.

"But you're a mage. A powerful one. You hardly have need of a blade."

She shrugged. "Vivienne thought it might be worth me learning 'the way of the knight enchanter'. You know, the 'Herald of Andraste' charging into battle at the forefront of the troops. Glowing mage blade in hand. I'm reliably informed that the sight would be wholly inspirational."

He chuckled again and the sound sent a delicious warmth through her. Why was that?

"Well, I cannot fault her logic," he said, stepping closer and leaning comfortably against one of the dummies. "If the morale boost after you agreed to become Inquisitor is anything to go by."

She nodded. "Me either. I just don't think anyone gave a thought as to whether or not I'm _actually_ any good with a blade."

He outright laughed at that and for just a moment she was glad she was so terrible with a sword, else she might never have heard it.

"Well, you won't be killing anything like that," he said. He paused and seemed to consider something for a moment. Then he pushed himself off the dummy and bent to retrieve her sword.

"Here," he said, gently taking her hand and wrapping her fingers around the hilt. "Don't hold it so tightly. Your grip should be firm but not tight enough to whiten the knuckles." He folded his own much larger hand over hers and for a moment the sight of their joined hands on the hilt of her blade was all she could see. She couldn't look up into his eyes. If she looked into his eyes she'd be lost.

He coughed. "Er... may I?" he asked softly.

She nodded. She couldn't speak, he was standing so close to her, practically holding her hand. She could feel her heartbeat racing in her chest. How was it possible that he already affected her so? She had barely begun to admit to herself that her feelings might be deeper than she first thought, let alone voicing that opinion to him, to anyone. And yet...

"Here," he said again moving behind her, wrapping one strong arm about her waist and pulling her against him, positioning them both sideways to the dummy. She sucked in a breath, heat sparking through her at the contact. "You need to widen your stance." He slipped one leg between hers and pushed her leg further out. "Keep your weight equally balanced between both legs." He dropped both of his hands to her waist and shifted her so her weight was balanced as he'd said.

"There… how does that feel?" he murmured into her ear.

She repressed a shudder. "Good," she said without thinking. "That feels... good."

She was blushing; she could feel the heat in her cheeks. Thankfully, with him stood behind her and with the low evening light he probably couldn't see it. At least, she hoped he couldn't. He coughed again, removing one of his hands from her waist and wrapping it around her sword-bearing hand instead.

"Now," he continued. "Really put your entire body weight behind the swing and imagine you're aiming for somewhere _behind_ your enemy. That way the swing will have more impact. You see?" he moved their conjoined hands in a slashing motion, pressing into her right shoulder and using the hand still on her hip to push her weight behind it. The sword whistled through the air with a devastating swishing sound that she alone had been unable to coax from it.

"I see," she said quietly.

"Good," he replied softly. He was still holding her against him, one hand on her hip, the other over hers on the hilt, his leg still holding hers in place. She could feel his eyes on her and couldn't resist turning her head to meet them. There was something in his expression that made her breathing quicken. Something deep and warm that made her unable to look away. She was drowning in the amber glow of his eyes and, Maker save her, she didn't truly didn't want to be anywhere else.

Then, quite suddenly, she realised who and where she was. She was the Inquisitor, he was her Commander, she was a former circle mage, he was a former templar. They were in the middle of the courtyard at Skyhold, in each-others' arms.

He seemed to come to the same realisation at the same time, abruptly releasing her from his arms and stepping away. She felt irrationally bereft of his warmth once it had gone.

"Would you ah...care to try again?" he said, raising one arm to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"Of course," she said with forced nonchalance, turning her attention back to the dummy. In truth she hadn't really been listening to a single word he'd said. How was she supposed to when he'd been pressed up against her like that? But she could remember the way he'd held her, positioned her. Perhaps that would be enough.

She did her best to stand the way he'd held her and once again she swung with all her might.

This time she hit the dummy so hard it wobbled on its stand.

"It worked!" she cried, genuinely surprised.

"Yes," he breathed softly. "Well done."

She couldn't resist grinning at him and the smile he gave her in return was all the reward she needed for her efforts.

"Thank you," she said. "For the lesson."

He inclined his head towards her. "It was my pleasure, Herald." He held her eyes for just a moment longer than usual and something sparked in the air between them. At least until he suddenly looked away, breaking the contact.

"I should go," he said. "There is much to do."

She nodded, feeling suddenly saddened by the distance between them. He moved past her, no doubt heading for his office.

"Commander," she called out suddenly, needing this not to be the end. "If I need another lesson… might I ask you?"

A small smile once again appeared on his lips, and once again she felt her heartbeat quicken.

"I would like that," he murmured softly, and then it was her turn to smile.

For she would most definitely be needing another lesson.


End file.
